


i think she knows

by dwoht



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: F/F, High School AU, another tumblr prompt ;), this used to be titled 'but i knew you', ugh they're cute!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:20:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28709598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwoht/pseuds/dwoht
Summary: “Alright, hop up on the sink, Short-Stack,” Shelby directs, and the immediate look of absolute contempt is equally rewarding as it is amusing.“What on God’s green Earth did you just call me?” Toni practically bites at her.Shelby just rolls her eyes. “Sit.”or,tumblr prompt: i have this concept going around in my head of shelby cleaning toni up after a fight. (specifically toni sitting up on the sink counter in a school bathroom so shelby doesn’t have to crane her neck looking down)
Relationships: Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe
Comments: 120
Kudos: 1373





	1. one

Of all the things on her daily schedule, rinsing out her retainer in the girls’ bathroom after lunch isn’t exactly on Shelby’s top ten.

It’s inevitable, though, because she’s already tried not eating with her friends, and that lead to half of them thinking she didn’t like them anymore. Her next move was to sit with them, but not actually eat, but _that_ lead to Karen pulling her aside at a sleepover and asking if she had an eating disorder.

So, lunch with her friends is a daily occurrence, five days a week, and so is rinsing her mouthpiece out afterwards.

She’s just shoving the retainer back into her mouth when the door smashes open. Sucking the remnants of the cold, and always oddly metallic-tasting school sink water out of the creases in the retainer, Shelby half-worries that the person walking into the bathroom saw her, but she soon realizes that is not the case.  Clicking it into the roof of her mouth with the tip of her tongue, she eyes the way the girl angrily stalks towards the sinks, and tries not to jump as she kicks the trash can on her way over.

‘The girl’ is Toni Shalifoe, Shelby allows herself to acknowledge. They’ve never actually spoken, but Shelby _has_ seen her around school near every day — or maybe she’s just keeping an eye out, not that she’d admit it, and they even have a class together.

Shelby watches, wordlessly, trying not to feel like a creep, as Toni begins cleaning off a bunch of cuts and scrapes on her skin.

_How_ she got them is another mystery altogether, but Shelby is occupied with trying not to wince as Toni starts scrubbing away at them with cheap, school paper towels, and running them over the sink put on full blast.

Shelby likes to think the following events occur because she’s just that good of a person, and she has that much goodness in her heart.

In fact, she would almost really believe it was nothing more than that, if the sight of Toni didn’t always make her heart skip a beat, and if she didn’t acknowledge the way she always spent the entirety of the sixty-minute AP Literature class they shared wishing Toni would talk to her.

‘Wishing’ is a strong word. More like ‘hoping.’ Or ‘pining.’ Or ‘waiting for a miracle because they’ve never spoken a word to each other before, and there’s absolutely no reason for them to start now.’ Either one.

Regardless, it’s almost like an out-of-body experience when Shelby says, “Need some help with that?”

Toni turns, almost comically, as if she’s surprised she’s even visible. “Excuse me?”

“Your, uh, wounds,” Shelby says, gesturing vaguely towards Toni’s whole self. “You need help cleaning them?”

“No,” Toni says.

A predictable response. Shelby shuffles in place. “Are you sure?”

“What are you, a nurse?” Toni asks, scrubbing away at a skid mark on her right palm in a way that is absolutely making it worse.

“Kind of?” Shelby says, and doesn’t miss the way Toni immediately rolls her eyes and mumbles, _Of course_ under her breath. “I’ll have you know I volunteer with the Red Cross sometimes.”

“Cool,” Toni says, ignoring her completely.

“So, can I help you?” Shelby asks. Vaguely, she registers her increasing frustration at how insufferable Toni apparently is, which she’d know if they’d actually _talked_ before now, and an equal amount of irritability directed at herself for even still involving herself in this conversation. _It’s because you’re a good_ person, she reminds herself. Toni continues to scrub — no, _damage,_ her wounds. “Toni.”

This gets her attention, at least. She looks up. “You know my name.”

_Is that weird?_

“Uh, I’m a good person,” she blurts out. _Crap. That was definitely weird._ “And I’m the Student Body President. It’s kind of my job to know everybody.”

_No, it’s not_ , she thinks, right as Toni says, “I don’t think that's true.”

“Well, we also have a class together,” Shelby says, shrugging. “Is it a crime for me to know your name? I bet you know mine, right?”

Toni rolls her eyes. “Yes, Head Cheerleader, I know your name.”

“I didn’t mean it like _that_ ,” she sighs, but trails off as Toni just smirks at her, clearly receiving the intended response. “Whatever. Can I _please_ just help you?”

Hesitantly, Toni lowers the hand with the paper towel clenched in it, and nods. The movement is so subtle Shelby almost misses it, but it’s enough to get her moving towards the sink. She lets her backpack slide onto one elbow as Toni says, “You know you’re not _actually_ a nurse, right?”

“Yes,” Shelby says, fishing through her backpack, “but I have a first aid kit.” She holds it up like a prize, swinging the small red bag from the zipper.

“Why?” Toni asks. 

“Well, as you so kindly pointed out,” Shelby says, unravelling the accordion inside, “I _am_ the Head Cheerleader, and the girls are always injuring themselves.” She pauses. “The school does have a nurse, though.”

“I know,” Toni says, rolling her eyes. “But I can’t exactly go there.”

Shelby blinks at her. “Why not?”

“Fighting is against school rules,” Toni says.

“You were in a fight?” Shelby says loudly.

“Yeah, and please tell everyone about, why don't you?” Toni hisses. She looks two seconds away from physically clamping a hand over Shelby’s mouth. “Are you gonna narc on me? ‘Cause if so, at least give me a head start.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Shelby mutters, pausing with a hand on her hip. “No, I’m not going to _narc_ on you.”

“Isn’t it in the Student Body President job description to uphold school rules?” Toni says, and it coughs into a chuckle. “Student Body President, Head Cheerleader. Jesus, what _aren’t_ you a part of?”

“Well, I’m a part of that too,” Shelby jokes. Toni just stares at her. “Jesus,” she clarifies. She tilts her head to one sides, head bobbing unnecessarily quickly as she explains, “Well, not Jesus. Christianity.”

“I had no idea,” Toni deadpans, gesticulating towards her neck. “The cross necklace and the fact that your dad runs Bible spin class didn’t tell me that at all.”

The little goblin brain deep inside her revels in the fact that Toni has apparently heard of her enough to know of her dad, _and_ has noticed her necklace, but the delight fades as she realizes Toni is also probably making fun of her.

“Alright, hop up on the sink, Short-Stack,” Shelby directs, and the immediate look of absolute contempt is equally rewarding as it is amusing.

“What on God’s green Earth did you just call me?” Toni practically bites at her.

Shelby just rolls her eyes. “Sit.” Toni huffs, but dutifully pushes herself up and onto the square sink bowl, her basketball shorts flowing down the sides of the white porcelain. “So, who’d you fight?”

“You really wanna know?” Toni asks, watching Shelby fold some paper towels.

“I wouldn’t have asked,” Shelby says.

“Your boyfriend,” Toni says, looking absolutely delighted. “Andrew, right?”

“Yes,” Shelby says, pausing with her hand on the faucet. “Why are you fighting my boyfriend?”

At that, Toni clenches her jaw so tightly it looks like it could snap, and the teasing lilt in her tone is gone when she says, “Maybe you should teach him to be less of a douchebag.”

She almost wants to say, _He is not_ , but he really is. Instead, she goes with, “That’s not my job.”

“Maybe not, but you _are_ dating him, no?” Toni says. She crosses her arms. “So, you don’t care about how he acts at all?”

Shelby sighs. “Are you just going to grill me for the next twenty minutes? Because I so did not sign up for that,” and then, flush with humiliation, she stumbles through, “nor did I agree to listen to you insult the people I — my — the people in my life.”

It’s excruciating to watch Toni observe her clearly flustered self, but eventually Toni takes pity on her, shrugs, and says, “It’s just a question.” 

“Well, drop it,” Shelby huffs. “Do you want my help or not?”

“Not,” Toni retorts.

Flicking on the faucet and running the folded up wad of paper under it briefly, Shelby waves it in front of her face. “This is a paper towel, which I got from the dispenser that probably hasn’t been cleaned since before you and I were born. Not sterile. Not clean. Bad for open wounds.”

She sets to work wiping gently across the dried blood littered all around the wounds. Careful to avoid the actual cuts themselves, she cleans up the surrounding areas, cognizant not to apply so much pressure that the paper begins to shred.

“Ow,” Toni whines pitifully.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shelby mutters. “You’re fine.”

A scoff follows, but Shelby barely notices, occupied more with not letting her heart rate elevate to a dangerous level as she steps in between Toni’s open legs to blot at the cut above her eye. She swears she hears Toni suck in a breath, but it’s faint if at all, and her tone is even when she speaks.

“You know, you’re a lot less nice than I figured you’d be,” Toni huffs.

“And you’re a lot more annoying than I thought,” Shelby counters.

Toni grins, a lopsided toss away that makes Shelby’s heart jump, but she honestly can’t tell if it’s out of endearment or frustration as Toni says, “So you’ve thought of me?”

Ignoring her pointedly, Shelby reaches into the bag for a packet of gauze and some Neosporin. She rips off the top of the paper package with her teeth, and tries to ignore the way Toni’s eyes follow the movement.

“This is gauze from a package. Sterile. Clean. _Good_ for open wounds,” she says. She smears a bit of paste from the mini tube onto the gauze. “Disinfectant is important.”

“I’ve survived thus far without,” Toni mumbles.

“Let’s not tempt fate, ‘kay?” Shelby asks, raising an eyebrow.

Slowly, as if a child reaching for something they’re not supposed to, Toni’s right arm comes slowly up to her forehead, and begins feeling around for the wound. Without a second thought, Shelby’s hand comes to snap around her wrist, and she pulls it down.

“No touching,” she says.

Toni’s eyes are bright with amusement and a bit of something else. “Ah, so the girl who lets her boyfriend do whatever he wants has some fight to her.”

“I take charge,” Shelby says indignantly. “Sometimes.” She flushes instantly, hoping Toni didn’t pick up on the subtext, but of course she does.

“I’m sorry, did Shelby Goodkind just profess to me that she’s a _top_?” Toni asks, eyes wide with delight.

_God, in your mercy, kill me_ , Shelby silently prays.

“Can you be quiet for, like, five seconds and let me clean your freakin’ cut?” Shelby demands. She steps closer still, which she didn’t even know was possible, until her hips are pressed flush with the chill of the porcelain sink.

She’s just barely touched the gauze to the wound when Toni hisses, “Ow,” and shies away from her touch.

“Quit moving,” Shelby huffs.

“It hurts,” Toni whines.

“Well, get over it,” Shelby says. She pauses. “You know, for someone who fights people, you’re awfully wimpy.”

“I am _not_ ,” Toni says, eyes narrowing.

“Then stay still,” Shelby says, throwing her the hand with the gauze up. She releases Toni’s right wrist, and uses that hand to cup her head still. “Or I’ll have to pin you down.”

Of-fucking-course, because it’s Toni, she says, “Promise?”

“You know,” Shelby hums, reaching for a little bandaid, “you act real slick for someone I know wouldn’t even take the initiative to talk to a pretty girl, and had to be set-up by her sister in science class.”

Toni gapes at her. “You know Martha?”

“We have Marine Biology,” Shelby shrugs. “C Period.”

“That traitor,” Toni mutters. She tilts her head to one side. “So you know I dated Reagan. Aren’t Christians, like, against people like me?” She raises an eyebrow, and then adds, mockingly, “You know, ‘the gays.’”

“Ever considered that some Christians _are_?” Shelby counters, biting over the fact that she can’t even bring herself to _say_ the word.

Silently, Toni watches as she reaches for a mini ice pack and starts massaging it to activate the cooling agents. “Then why do you have a boyfriend?” she asks.

Sighing, Shelby thinks about her father telling them, proudly, about how Kyle is two weeks into his four month long conversion therapy program. “I never said I was talking about myself.”

“Ah,” Toni says, and if Shelby didn’t know better, she’d almost say Toni was looking a little disappointed. “Here I was thinking maybe you’ve been out and about kissing girls.”

And then Shelby thinks of That Sleepover she had with Becca a year ago. Huddled under the comfort of the night, and squeezed into Shelby’s twin bed that had long since stopped fitting both of them comfortably, their lips touched just once.

Becca tasted like mint toothpaste, secrets, and a racing heartbeat. The kiss itself tasted sweeter than any forbidden fruit, and lasted no more than a couple seconds. And then they pulled back, staring into each other’s eyes, and Shelby tried not to think about how Becca’s eyes looked almost gray when doused in moonlight just so.

Right as she was about to say something, anything, Becca leaned in again, and again, and again, and it solved every question Shelby had ever had, answered all her prayers, and yet did nothing to ease the terror that’s been clawing its way through her ever since.

They went to sleep soon after that, and never brought it up again, but Becca has stopped mentioning Andrew when they hang out one-on-one now, and sometimes when they’re crawling into the bed Shelby has since upgraded to a full size, Shelby thinks Becca might kiss her again.

And she thinks she might let her.

_Here I was thinking maybe you’ve been out and about kissing girls._

Shelby runs a thumb gently over the split in Toni’s bottom lip, locking eyes with her, and smiling a little when she hears Toni hiss as the pad of her thumb makes contact with the little cut. “Who says I haven’t?”

“Ow,” Toni mumbles, but her hand comes up to replace Shelby’s on the ice pack that’s been placed at her lip, and she dutifully holds it in place.

Shelby drops to her knees then, because suddenly eye contact is far too much for her to handle, but she’s halfway to the ground when she’s wondering if this is actually maybe worse.  Her deliberation is cut short with an eyeful of gravel in Toni’s knee. “Ew,” she can’t stop herself from saying.

“Oh, is that a professional opinion?” Toni asks sarcastically, though her eyes are a bit breathless when she looks down at Shelby.

“Sorry,” Shelby says, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “Seriously, though, what happened?”

“Your dick of a boyfriend knocked me off my skateboard,” Toni says, rubbing at the bruising knuckles of her right hand.

“So you punched him,” Shelby says.

“‘Course,” Toni says.

“Right, of course,” she mutters, going back to her initial paper towel cleaning.

“Aren’t you going to tell me violence isn’t the answer?” Toni asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well, since you said it, God _does_ expect us to be instruments of love,” Shelby says. Toni smirks as if to say, _There it is_ , but Shelby adds, “Although, it doesn’t sound like Andrew was very loving.”

“Not at all,” Toni agrees, and for the first time her smile is laced with a bit of amusement that looks like it’s _with_ Shelby, not at her.

“And God _also_ says, ‘he who casts injury upon woman may be laid down with the power of the fist’,” Shelby says, unfolding a new piece of gauze.

For a split second, Toni looks almost pleasantly surprised. “Really?”

“No,” Shelby laughs. She lets a hand come to rest upon the top of Toni’s right leg. “Careful, this’ll sting.” Toni does suck in a breath, but she doesn’t jerk away like before, and Shelby rewards her by blowing gently on the injured site. “Better?”

“Mhm,” Toni says. She watches as Shelby rises to her feet. “You aren’t going to bandage it?”

“No,” Shelby says, zipping up her first aid kit. “It needs to breathe. Otherwise, all that moisture is just going to fester, and it’ll never scab.”

“Gross.”

“I know.” She slips the red case back into her backpack. “Why? Do you want me to?”

Toni shrugs, looking a little sheepish. “I don’t know. I have basketball, so I don’t want anyone to, like, touch it.”

“Maybe skip a day?” Shelby asks, but widens her eyes as Toni looks at her like she just suggested she kill a man. “Or not.” She zips up her backpack. “I guess... don’t fall on it. That would hurt.” She pauses. “And that’s a professional opinion.”

“Okay,” Toni says.

And then they’re just standing there.

Well, Toni is still perched up on the sink, slouching down into the bowl in a way that shouldn’t be comfortable, but looks like it is. They’re eyeing each other, although this time they’re not sizing the other up to argue. Rather, trying to figure the other out. Shelby doesn't think either of them are very close to the answer.

It’s pretty clear that this is the end of… whatever just happened, but Shelby knows she would literally never forgive herself if she just let Toni walk out, and they didn't speak to each other ever again.

Before it gets weird, she blurts out, “Why haven’t we talked in class before?” She shrugs her backpack up higher on her shoulder. “I mean, we’re already halfway through the year, you know? Why haven’t you ever talked to me?”

“Why haven’t _you_ talked to _me_?” Toni counters, eyebrows raised.

Shelby resists the urge to scoff. “Why is it on _me_ to talk to _you_?”

“Aren’t you the one who said I — well, how did you put it?” Toni says thoughtfully. Mockingly, she tilts her head to one side, and says, “‘Wouldn’t even take the initiative to talk to a pretty girl’? ‘Had to be set-up by her sister in science class.’ Does that sound about right?”

Shelby blinks. “I suppose so.”

“Well,” Toni continues, “it’s English, and Martha isn’t there, so —“ she pauses, hopping off the sink and grabbing her backpack in one smooth motion. “So, yeah, it’s on you.”

_Toni thinks I’m pretty. Toni thinks I’m pretty. Toni thinks I’m pretty_ , her mind chants over and over, and thank the Lord, when she opens her mouth to speak she manages to say, “Noted,” rather than the thought in her brain that would be a lot more embarrassing.

There’s an odd sort of smile lingering on Toni’s lips, reaching all the way up to her eyes. And it’s such a ridiculous sight, her in all her five-foot-two-ness, oversized basketball backpack, and skinny limbs covered in bruises and scrapes, but it makes Shelby want to do something dumb like kiss her.

Toni herself looks like she wants to say something else, but with a satisfied little nod, all she does is salute lightly with two fingers, swing open the bathroom door, and throw a, “See you around,” over her shoulder.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well lads. here we go.

It’s been a total of twenty-six hours since The Bathroom Incident.

As in, the incident where Shelby talked to her crush-if-she-were-emotionally-evolved-enough-to-label-it-as-such for the first time, possibly came out, and essentially was told that if she ever wanted it to happen again, it would be on _her_ terms.

She decides using the Lord’s name in vain is okay if the statement could be passed off as a prayer, and, God, Shelby does want it to happen again. A lot.

She’s pretty sure the conversation with Toni put her through all five stages of grief six times over, but here she is, walking into her and Becca’s weekly night at the bowling alley, and thinking about her.

Hypothetically, Shelby has this reoccurring daydream. She and Toni would be arguing, because what else, and in the middle of Toni ranting about who knows what, Shelby would just lean forward, cup her jaws with both hands, and pull her in for a kiss to shut her up. As an argument tactic, to be sure.

She thinks it would be highly effective considering Toni’s almost magnetic responsiveness to her, but for all her wondering, can’t quite figure out if Toni would sit there, blissfully lost for words, or whether she’d take it as a challenge and kiss her back.

Shelby wonders which she’d prefer more. They’re both good options. Hypothetically, of course, to win the argument.

She and Becca are almost at the end of a round when Becca says, “Why don’t we ever eat here?”

“Hm?” Shelby says, poking around the bowling balls for the least-gross one.

“The bowling alley,” Becca says. She shrugs, lining up to take her shot. “We always go out to eat somewhere else after, but there’s a whole restaurant here.”

“The food’s crap, that’s why,” Shelby laughs, hearing the smooth rolling of Becca’s bowling ball no doubt rocketing straight down the middle of the lane.

She looks up to see how badly Becca’s winning, but pauses halfway with her mouth open to say something about going easy on her when she notices the way Becca is practically frozen in place. She’s staring, off at towards the restaurant.

“It’s her,” she hisses.

Shelby abandons her bowling ball search and shuffles over. “Huh?”

“That’s the girl that punched Andrew,” Becca says.

“Toni,” Shelby automatically corrects, eyes fixed on the figure she's immediately clocked.

“What?” Becca says, still staring off into the abyss. “What’s a Toni?”

“That’s her name, dummy,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes.

This time, Becca turns towards her, sporting a look that’s equal parts amused as it is surprised, and a whole lot of potentially teasing remarks start bubbling up behind her eyes. Eventually, she decides on, “You know that why?”

“Uh, ‘cause,” Shelby says, the same dumb excuse coming to mind. “I’m the Student Body President, it’s kind of my job to know everyone.”

“No, it isn’t,” Becca laughs. “Seriously, why do you know her?”

“I don’t!” Shelby says, shuffling back a pace. “Well, we have a class together.” It’s a half-hearted deflection because she knows she’s going to spill everything anyway. Ever since the two of them were kids, for some reason Shelby has never managed to figure it out, she literally cannot lie to Becca, which in her mind also includes withholding information. “And maybe I helped clean her injuries after she got in that fight.”

“The fight with Andrew,” Becca states, in a way that makes it clear she knows exactly which fight it is.

“Yes, _that_ fight,” Shelby says, internally groaning at Becca’s growing smile. “You’re being real annoying right now, you know that?”

“Maybe because I just found out you were off playing nurse with your boyfriend’s nemesis?” Becca suggests. “Why are you getting in the middle of _their_ bad blood?”

“Alright, take it easy, Taylor Swift,” Shelby scoffs. “And, from what it sounded like, the whole thing was Andrew’s fault anyway.”

“Well, yeah,” Becca says, shrugging. “Can’t wait for you to dump him.”

“Oh, right, because I want nothing more to face my father’s wrath,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes. It suddenly becomes acutely clear that they’re _still_ staring off in Toni’s direction. Shelby grabs her elbow. “C’mon, stop being weird. Let’s go eat.”

“We’re in the middle of a game,” Becca says, gesturing to the lane in front of them.

“Too bad, I’m hungry,” Shelby says, fully willing to never hear the end of this just to get Becca to _leave_.

“Isn’t she the varsity girls basketball captain?” Becca says, turning back halfway before Shelby tugs on her elbow again. “She’s probably cool, then.”

“She’s not cool, she’s annoying,” Shelby says.

“I thought you said you don’t know her,” Becca says, finally giving up on trying to catch another glimpse of Toni.

“I don’t,” Shelby says. She marches down the aisles of the parking lot as Becca trails behind her in a lot less of a hurry. “I mean, we’ve talked, like, once.”

“Which is enough to know that she’s annoying?” Becca laughs.

“Yes,” Shelby says, rattling the door handle like a five-year-old, and Becca rolls her eyes and unlocks the car for them. She slides into the passenger seat, ignoring Becca’s growing, shit-eating grin until they’ve been sitting there way too long for her to _not_ say something. “What?”

“I never thought I’d see the day you had an honest crush on someone,” Becca sighs.

“Ah, no,” Shelby says, holding up her index fingers. “No, that’s —“ She shakes her head. “No.”

“You know you can’t lie to me,” Becca says in that annoying sing-song voice she does. What’s even _more_ annoying is the fact that it’s true.

“Alright, get fucked,” Shelby says, stacking her right ankle on her left knee and staring out the window.

“Ouch,” Becca says, firing up the engine. “You say your prayers with that mouth?”

“That sounds like something Toni would say,” Shelby says before she can stop herself. She liftt up a hand. “Don’t start with me.”

As much as she sulks and glares and scoffs her way through Becca’s teasing and cackling over the entire car ride to dinner, she realizes that Becca was right about this being her first sort-of-crush. Shelby figures Toni might be the only person annoying enough to catch her attention.

And, while it makes her want to crawl into a hole and die, the normalcy of being teased for having a it’s-not-a-crush crush on Toni while they ignore the elephant in the room is nice, too. If it’s not so depressing to say, yeah, she’s sort of enjoying living the typical teenage girl experience of getting absolutely roasted by her best friend.

Becca plays the part almost too well, and is still wiggling her eyebrows at her as they approach Shelby’s AP Literature class. As in, the one she shares with Toni.

For the first time, her limbs feel awkward and stiff as she walks into the room, and she wonders whether this is what it’s like to actually care about what someone thinks of you. Rather, what it’s like to care about what someone thinks of you when you’re not sure what they want.

Shelby’s whole persona is built off of catering to those around her, but quite frankly it’s as effortless as it is breathing. With Toni? She’s not so sure. And it kind of sucks.

Predictably, Shelby is the first one to step into class, because she’s nothing if not an overachiever, and feels blessed with the comfort that it’s just her and the teacher for a bit. She slides into the desk she always does, stupidly in the back because the desk assignments were for some reason chosen alphabetical by first name, and waits for Toni to show up.

She’s half-wondering if Toni just straight up _won’t_ , when she stumbles through the door five seconds before the bell, and somehow clutching a can of Red Bull, a bag of Takis, and a whole basketball in one hand.

“Toni, thank you for joining us,” Mrs. Clayton says. Toni mumbles something through the phone in her mouth as Mrs. Clayton flicks the doorstop up with her foot and lets it swing closed. “Alright, everyone. Happy Monday! Go ahead and talk about what you did over the weekend with the people around you, and take out your essay outlines please.”

Before she can chicken out, Shelby spins around. “I saw you at the bowling alley.”

She watches with a ‘yikes’ face ready to go as Toni sets everything down on her desk, carefully trying to avoid dumping her Red Bull everywhere. “I know,” she says, sliding into the seat. “You and your friend aren’t very subtle.”

“We weren’t trying to be,” Shelby retorts, though as soon as she finishes saying it, she wonders if it’s not as good of a comeback as she thinks it was.

Toni ruffles through her backpack, which is a highly anxiety-inducing sight of about a hundred papers all mixed together. “What were you two doing there anyway?”

“Bowling?” Shelby says. She faces forward long enough to flip open her AP Lit folder and pull out the little paperclip she’s assigned to hold together her homework.

“You’re very organized,” Toni observes.

“And you’re not,” Shelby says.

Toni’s eyes widen. “Oh, my _God_. That’s the last time I ever compliment you.”

“I’m sorry!” Shelby blurts out, resisting the urge to reach out and pat her on the head or something. Briefly, she wonders if forcing her to live through the endless embarrassment she creates for herself is His way of punishing her for her sexuality. “Sorry. I expected you to insult me.”

A pause. Then, “Well, I _was_ going to, actually.” Toni grins at her, and finally, now that the chaos of her entrance has died down, she realizes what Toni is actually wearing.

“No offense, but what is on your body?” Shelby asks, trying to look her up and down without looking like she’s looking her up and down.

“Oh, this?” Toni says nonchalantly. “It’s game day.”

It’s not really an explanation for why she’s decked out head to toe in neon orange, but Shelby vaguely remembers some basketball tradition where they dress up in the most ridiculous of clothes to raise publicity for their games.

Toni doesn’t seem at _all_ the kind of person to wear neon orange in any context, but she _does_ seem like the kind of person to take her sports seriously, not to mention she’s the captain, so Shelby figures the two must cancel each other out.

She’s about to say something incredibly witty and hilarious that she hasn’t thought of yet when Mrs. Clayton’s voice rings out over the blanket of chatter, and calls the class’ attention back to her. Shelby has turned around for a total of sixteen seconds when she feels a tap on her shoulder.

She turns.

Toni is raising her eyebrows and looking back and forth between meeting her in eye contact and pointedly staring at a note she’s holding out. Shelby gives her a look. Toni wiggles the note. Sighing, Shelby takes it.

_So, are you coming to the game?_

_I can’t,_ she writes. Then, _Cheer practice._

It’s not _not_ true, though she knows fully well that while cheer practice runs through some of the JV basketball games, it ends an hour before the varsity ones even start. Unfortunately, it would appear Toni knows this too.

_Game isn’t till 8._

She sighs. _I hate basketball._

_You aren’t a very supportive Student Body President:(_

_You’re so annoying,_ she scribbles back.

It’s not the most poetic thing she’s ever written. Luckily, s he’s saved from having to read whatever undoubtedly obnoxious reply Toni can come up with when Mrs. Clayton starts pairing them up. Of course, the two of them are motioned to be together.

“So how are your, uh, wounds?” Shelby asks, gesturing vaguely towards Toni’s forehead.

Toni shrugs, watching as Shelby turns her desk around. “I’ve had worse.”

“From fighting people?” Shelby gapes at her a little.

Toni gives her a look. “No, from basketball,” she says.

“Oh,” Shelby says. She fiddles with the end of her paper. “Well, no more fights.”

“No promises,” Toni grins, “especially if we’re talking about your boyfriend.”

Shelby rolls her eyes. “Then don’t ask me to patch you up again.”

“I never even asked you in the first place,” Toni reminds her.

They stare at each other, silently, and there’s a hint of a smile toying on Toni’s lips, and Shelby thinks, _God, this is one of those moments where it would be so satisfying to kiss you and watch that smug look slip away_. Instead, she settles for, “Let’s start working before Mrs. Clayton comes over.”

“She won’t,” Toni says, leaning back in her chair.

“How do you know that?” Shelby sighs, pushing her work towards Toni’s desk pitifully.

“‘Cause it’s you,” Toni says, shrugging as she lets her feet rest gingerly on the desk legs, and tips back onto just the back half. “She never checks in on you.”

“Should I be creeped out that you know that?” Shelby asks, wondering whether it’s supposed to mean something that Toni has apparently been observing her long enough to know about Mrs. Clayton’s teaching habits around her.

Toni clicks her tongue, swigging from the Red Bull in a way that should be so frat-boy-level-gross, but somehow isn’t. “The real question,” she says, “is _why_ she doesn’t check in on you.”

“She likes me,” Shelby shrugs. “I’m always early to class.”

“Of course you are,” Toni says.

“Excuse me?” Shelby scoffs. She abandons her attempts to get Toni to look at their papers, and settles back into her own chair. “Sorry I like to do well in school.”

“You think I don’t do well in school?” Toni asks, tilting her head to one side.

Shelby thinks back to the fact that she’s _always_ late, doesn’t appear to have a single folder in her entire backpack, and has probably lost about a billion brain cells fighting people and playing basketball. “I never said that.”

Toni grins. “Guess my GPA.”

“No,” Shelby says. She struggles for a second. “We’re not supposed to compare grades.”

“Oh, is that something you learned as Student Body President?” Toni smirks.

“Actually, yeah,” Shelby says, resisting the urge to fold her arms and huff. “It makes for an unhealthy school environment.”

“How do you even have _time_ to be early to class?” Toni wonders. “Don’t you do, like, sixty different extra-curriculars? Cheerleading, SEC, yearbook…”

“Bible spin class,” Shelby adds, reveling in the silent roll of the eyes Toni gives her at that. She shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s nice to get to class early. It’s quiet.”

“I don’t like quiet,” Toni says. There’s a soft sort of melancholy on her face that Shelby totally does not have time to unpack right now when she adds, “Gives you too much time to think, you know?”

“True, and it’s not like you do much of that that anyway,” Shelby shrugs.

“In case you were wondering,” Toni says, and her tone makes it clear that she’s about to say something Shelby absolutely wasn’t, “you as a person is equally as irritating as it is to sit behind your ponytail everyday.” And, just as Shelby is about to reply with an undoubtedly, super clever retort such as, _No, you’re irritating_ , Toni adds, “Looking at your face is a massive improvement.”

Shelby just blinks at her. “Okay.” Then, “I’m still not coming to your basketball game.”

A slow, knowing smile spreads out across Toni’s face. She glances down at their desks for a second, then back up to meet Shelby’s eyes. “We just got assigned this paper last week, right?”

“Right,” Shelby agrees warily.

“And it’s due in four weeks, right?” Toni asks.

“Right,” Shelby repeats.

In one smooth motion, Toni tips herself down onto all four chair legs again, and leans forward. “I propose a bet.” Shelby arches an eyebrow. “I bet I’ll score better than you on this project.”

The immediate reaction is to laugh, but Toni looks so freakishly confident that Shelby falters and begins to wonder what _is_ her GPA. She considers this proposition. “Well, what do we get?”

“If I win,” Toni says, lifting a finger to point at her, “you have to come to a basketball game.”

“And if I win?” Shelby asks.

Toni shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

“I want you to stop fighting people,” Shelby says, and for what feels like the millionth time, the urge to kiss Toni into shutting up bubbles through her again as Toni actually chuckles.

“ _That’s_ what you want?” she asks in disbelief. “That’s a terrible prize.”

“Yeah, well, don’t be a dick about it,” Shelby says sourly.

Toni whistles. “‘Dick.’ You say your prayers with that mouth?”

Silently, Shelby pulls out her phone.

**Becca :)**

**[9:47 AM]:** I told you.

After that, it’s like the floodgates have opened. Despite not saying a word to each other since school started in August, and it being now early January, it’s like they can’t _stop_ talking to each other.

Shelby absolutely hates that she does this, but every time she slides into her desk, always the first one there, she turns to check the door at each person just to see if it’s Toni. And, not that Toni would ever admit it, but Shelby swears she starts getting to class a little bit earlier too.

After finding out that Shelby prefers Hot Cheetos over Takis, which according to Toni should be the eighth deadly sin, Toni starts showing up to English with a little bag of Hot Cheetos for her on days she goes to the vending machine before class.

In return, on Tuesdays, when English is their first period of the day, Shelby shows up with a coffee from the shop she passes every day on her way to school. It isn’t forgotten how Toni _says_ she drinks it black, but Shelby always adds cream and some kind of sugar to it, and Toni never complains.

“Wake up, Short-Stack,” she sings, setting the cup down rather unceremoniously on the desk. “Happy Tuesday!”

“There’s nothing happy about it being eight in the morning,” Toni grumbles. Her head is still buried in her arms, but she feels around for the coffee, and lifts herself up enough to take a sip. “And stop calling me that.”

“It’s not my fault you’re short,” Shelby says.

“Okay, BFG,” comes Toni’s reply, muffled around where her teeth bite into the edge of the cup lid.

“Excuse me,” Shelby scoffs, “I’m five-foot-six, that’s hardly considered extraordinarily tall.”

To be sure, she looks it up at lunch, and declares her victory the next time they have English class.

Toni breezes into the room with the largest can of Red Bull that Shelby has ever seen, but before she can say anything, Shelby says, “I’m a single inch above average height.”

“Oh, my God,” Toni says, sliding into her chair. “You’re _still_ on that.”

“I take accusations seriously, I’ll have you know,” Shelby says. She ticks off on her fingers, “The average height for American women is five feet and four inches, but I was born in Australia, and _their_ average is five feet and six inches.”

“It’s actually five feet and _five_ inches,” Toni corrects.

“Well, I — I rounded it,” Shelby sputters. _Fuck. She looked it up too._

“If you’re trying to win this bet, I hope you’re better at English than you are math,” Toni says, “because everyone knows that five point two nine would be rounded down, not up.”

Sometimes, their interactions go a lot less smoothly. Shelby throws out random questions like, “Hey, what’s your favorite vegetable?”

Toni doesn’t even pause in her rapid typing, nor does she look up from her computer screen, and just deadpans, “You.”

Becca thinks the whole thing is absolutely hilarious, and texts her things to say, which Shelby more often than not does _not_ follow the advice of.

For all the back and forth they do, though, the reality is that most days, they don’t really have time to talk that much. Despite them being second semester seniors, Mrs. Clayton has decided to work them to the absolute bone, and they’re usually silently working on essays or pop quizzes all hour.

On those classes, Shelby makes sure to toss a, “See you, Short-Stack” over her shoulder on her way out.

To which Toni always calls, “Watch it, or you’ll be the next person I fight,” towards her retreating form.

Two weeks before the project is due, Shelby breaks up with Andrew. Neither of them seem very sad about it, which is sad in itself, and she manages to evade her father’s scrutiny with assuring him that it’s just so she can focus on spending more time with the family before she heads off to college.

A week before the project is due, Shelby buys Toni a folder, which she immediately promises not to use. It turns out Toni is nothing if not honest, because every day without fail, that lime green folder sits in her backpack on top of all the loose papers. She still carries it around, though, which Shelby considers a win.

The day of the project, they’re bantering back and forth when Mrs. Clayton comes by to collect their papers.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other,” she says with a smile.

“We don’t,” Shelby says, even though her desk is physically turned around to face Toni’s.

“Yeah, don’t get it twisted,” Toni mocks, “we’ve just been talking this entire class period because we don’t know each other.”

“Maybe I meant I _wish_ I didn’t know you,” Shelby says. She tugs her desk halfway back around. “It’s called manifesting.”

“Alright, alright,” Mrs. Clayton interrupts, looking like she’s not sure if they’re kidding or not — which, _Same_ , Shelby thinks, “Good work on this project, you two.” She raises her voice to address the rest of the class as she continues, “Grades will be posted in a week, and then we’ll just enjoy the rest of second semester.”

“Perfect,” Toni whispers, “I have a game that night.”

The moment of truth is pretty anti-climactic, if Shelby is being honest. Pulling up their grades on their phones, they huddle outside the classroom before the bell, and Shelby bites back a smile as she sees hers load into a ninety-eight.

“What’s your GPA again?” Toni asks.

“Uh-uh,” Shelby says. She nods towards Toni’s phone. “No deflecting. So?”

For once, Toni looks a little wary as she says, “Ninety-eight.”

Shelby stares at her. “You’re joking.”

“Yeah,” Toni says. She looks down. “It’s a ninety-seven, but with your logic I rounded it up.”

“Oh, fuck _off_ ,” Shelby says. Then she grins. “By the way, I win. Ninety-eight for real.”

“Fuck,” Toni swears. She slumps against the wall, and throws her head in her hands in such a way that Shelby almost thinks she’s genuinely upset until she says, “You know, I’ve never gone a single basketball game without fighting someone.”

“Good luck,” Shelby snorts. She waves. “See you in class, Short-Stack.”

She plans on that being the end of it. As in, the end of the bet. It was fun, and now it’s over. That conclusion lasts for approximately an hour, until at lunch, Becca says, “So, d’ya wanna come to the game tonight?”

Shelby’s hand freezes halfway to her water bottle. “What game?”

“ _The_ game,” Becca says, furrowing her eyebrows. “The varsity girls basketball game. It’s the only one.”

“But I won the stupid bet,” Shelby whines. “I can’t show my face.”

“Oh, gosh, you’re ridiculous,” Becca says, rolling her eyes. “You’re coming with me, end of story.”

“You don’t even like basketball,” Shelby says, unfreezing and taking a sip from her bottle. “Why are we doing this?”

“My friend is playing,” Becca says. She shrugs. “I guess one of their starters is injured or something.” Shelby doesn’t say anything. “I’ll buy you dinner before?”

Which is how she finds herself walking into the very basketball game that she busted her ass on a paper just to avoid. Of course, Toni happens to be looking around when she shuffles through the gym doors, makes eye contact with her immediately, winks, and makes a perfect basket without looking.

“She’s so annoying,” Shelby huffs.

“Really?” Becca is grinning between the two of them as they climb up the bleachers. “I thought that was kind of slick, actually.”

The game starts not long after that, and Shelby realizes within the first thirteen seconds that she literally could not know less about basketball. She doesn’t even know the names of the positions, nor the point system, or any of the rules.

Becca doesn’t seem to be much help either. Every time she looks like she’s about to explain something, she just ends up saying, “Oh, look, my friend has the ball now.”

The insufferable part of the whole thing is that despite being unable to name a single thing happening on the court, it’s still pretty clear that Toni is actually really good. Like, she’s the only one of two team members that doesn’t get subbed out the whole game, and maneuvers around the court like it's the back of her hand.

Toni and a couple other girls disappear into the locker rooms after, and with Becca off chatting with her friend down court-side, Shelby wanders off in the direction of the locker rooms as well. As always, it smells a lot like sweat, and not much else.

“I don’t miss P.E.,” is the first thing that comes to mind.

Toni turns, halfway through lacing up a shoe. “You don’t seem like the running type.”

“Says you,” Shelby scoffs. “I’ll have you know I go for a run every morning, and I played youth soccer until I was nine.”

“Wait, really?” Toni sports a look that’s something akin to being impressed.

Shelby furrows her eyebrows. “About the soccer?”

“No,” Toni laughs, “the runs.”

“Oh,” she says. She shrugs, shuffling a few paces closer. “Yeah, it wakes me up in the morning, I guess.”

Toni stares at her for a few seconds, and then resumes lacing her shoes. “I can’t even be mad about that. I wish I was a morning person so bad.”

“Maybe then you wouldn’t be late to school,” Shelby agrees. Toni just rolls her eyes, and starts stuffing her uniform into her still ridiculously oversized backpack. “Sorry about, uh, losing the game.”

“Ah, it’s okay,” Toni says. She takes a swipe at the slight sweat lingering on her forehead, and while the frown on her lips says otherwise, she adds, “Can’t win ‘em all, eh?”

“And you didn’t fight anyone,” Shelby adds helpfully.

Toni looks up with that stupid bashful smile she does. “No, I did not. Besides,” she continues, standing up and closing the gap between them. “it was otherwise a good day today.”

“You _lost_ the bet,” Shelby says incredulously.

Toni wiggles her eyebrows. “Yeah, but you still came to my basketball game, didn’t you?”

And then Shelby kisses her.

Her hands cling firmly around Toni’s face, and she victory smiles deeper into the kiss when she feels Toni’s hands fumble unsure around her waist. Eventually, they settle, with one coming to rest on her hip, and the other starting to slide dangerously high.

Toni kisses with the same fire as it feels to argue with her. Intoxicating, frustrating, and God, so fucking satisfying. It sends Shelby’s brain spinning off into sixteen different directions, and all of a sudden it’s like they’re _still_ fighting.

Only this time, Toni’s lips are tangling her up and taunting her, and it’s not her words that bite, but her teeth.

They’re still going at it, back and forth, neither willing to concede first, and Toni keeps trying to lead in a way that can only be described as endearingly annoying, so eventually Shelby just backs her up against the wall, slides her left hand down to Toni’s hip, and pins her there.

They kiss for what feels like hours. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe seconds. For all Shelby knows, a part of her is always going to be kissing Toni.

But then, just like a flame, it goes out as quickly as it’s lit. Their lips slow, both backing off at the same time until it’s quieter, calmer, softer.

Shelby pulls away first, panting a little, and they just stand there for a few seconds. Her thumb rubs absentmindedly along Toni’s jaw, and even with their foreheads pressed together, she can see the way Toni wets her lips again.

Eventually, Shelby breaks the silence. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“What, kiss me?” Toni asks, and her shit-eating grin is as infuriating as ever as she leans her head back against the wall.

“No,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes. She gives Toni’s hip another little squeeze. “Shut you up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quinnfebrey on tumblr. come chat!

**Author's Note:**

> that’s all, folks. thank u for the comments on the last chapter!! i love reading them!:)


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